


Found Family

by TARDISTraveller42



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Arguing, Conflict Resolution, F/M, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Tea, Oneshot, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 08:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17362607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TARDISTraveller42/pseuds/TARDISTraveller42
Summary: The Doctor and Bill get into an argument, on a day when neither of them is at their best. Cue Nardole, tea, and emotional conversations so that they can get to the bottom of their troubles and learn to communicate better.





	Found Family

“So; what’s the lesson today?” 

Bill’s bookbag hit the floor at about the same time her books thudded onto the desk. Her movements were practiced, almost fluid, as she pulled out a pen and opened her notebook. They’d done this so many times now, she barely had to think before bursting into student-mode. It brought a hint of a smile to the Doctor’s lips. But the smile clouded over almost immediately.

“Theories of time travel.”

Bill smiled to herself as she wrote the title at the top of the page. 

“Bet you know more about that than anyone, eh Doctor?”

He gave her that tiny smile again, which faded just as quickly as it had arrived. Bill felt herself start to question it, but shook her head. It was time to focus.

“One theory states that there is only one course of events. Even if you go back in time and try to meddle, the timeline will heal itself. The end result will always be the same, no matter what you do.”

Bill looked up from her notes again. His tone was definitely different than usual. Gruffer. Sadder, even? His eyes certainly looked sad. Like when they’d watched the Lion King last Friday for TARDIS movie night. 

“Doctor?” 

His head jerked up, eyes widening in that owlish look he got when he was surprised. 

“Are you...okay?”

His eyebrows furrowed, as if she’d spoken in a language he didn’t understand.

“Fine. Now, where was I…?”

He continued on as if she hadn’t said anything. But just after mentioning The Time Traveler’s Wife, another film from a previous TARDIS movie night, that look came back into his eyes. That sad, deeply troubled look usually reserved for villages he knew were doomed and people he hadn’t been able to save. Bill set her pen down and stared at him until he stopped talking.

“Bill?” He asked, that stupid owl gaze looking at her again.

“It’s just...you don’t seem like yourself today, Doctor.”

“I’m fine.”

Bill couldn’t help the sigh she released a she looked back at her notebook.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she muttered under her breath.

“Do what?”

He asked it almost as a challenge. That’s how Bill heard it, anyway, sitting in this stuffy office that suddenly felt like a furnace.

“Do that thing where you act like everything is fine, but actually you’re really not fine.”

The Doctor shrugged, trying to fake her out with a smile. But it didn’t reach his eyes. It barely reached his lips.

“Bill; nothing’s wrong. Can I get back to my lesson now?”

She took a breath. Tried, really tried, to forget about it. But the room was hot and she hadn’t gotten much sleep between lessons and work and TARDIS travelling. And the Doctor was driving her up a wall and Moira was the same as ever and…

“We’re friends, right?”

The Doctor jerked back in response to the harshness in her tone. 

“Of course we’re friends,” he said quietly.

“Friends usually talk. But we never talk. About real stuff, I mean. Like, when we’re upset or sad or whatever. I want to talk.”

The heat in the room seemed to be centralizing on Bill’s cheeks, but she didn’t care. She was having this out right now because they both needed it. They both needed someone to go to.

“What is this really about?” The Doctor asked.

Bill could’ve screamed. She didn’t even know what she was really mad about; which might explain why his question made her so angry. But in that moment, she really could have screamed at him.

“This isn’t about anything...see, this is what I’m talking about. We always go through bloody trauma and then at the end of the day we just wave each other goodbye like it never happened. We can’t just pretend everything is fine all the time!”

The Doctor sat for a moment, unsure what to say. Or worried to say the wrong thing. One of those. Then he leaned forward, slowly, resting his elbows on the desk.

“Bill...did something happen? What are you not telling me?”

She shook her head and emitted a frustrated groan.

“You’re bloody impossible. See this; this! You’re deflecting. I’m literally telling you that we need to stop deflecting and then you’re deflecting from this conversation!”

Bill threw her things haphazardly into her backpack. Suddenly she could care less about theories of time travel. All she wanted to do was lay in bed and hope that this was some stupid dream concocted by the TARDIS after a long day of adventuring. She really was already embarrassed and flustered enough. She really didn’t need this to be an ongoing conversation. Though, if she were honest, she’d been having this conversation with herself for a few weeks now.

“Bill; where are you going?”

“Home,” she said. Though she and the Doctor both knew bloody well that her real ‘home’ was standing in the corner of the office looking like an old police call box. Where she was headed was just her Earth residence. 

“Bill; wait. I’m sorry.”

She had to admit, the apology made her pause. She hadn’t heard him say it very often. Usually just to grieving aliens and students that had really, really messed up. But she threw her bookbag over her shoulder and started out the door.

“I need to go to sleep. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

She had tried to be casual in her final words. But the same gentility didn’t reach her hand. The door slammed behind her, forcing a grimace. 

Tomorrow could only be better than today.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Nardole had heard the fighting, muffled by the TARDIS’ door. And the World Cup 2034 match on the Console Telly. But he only really worried when he heard the door slam shut. Thailand’s surprisingly skilled goaltender could wait, he figured. Either the human or the Timelord needed him.

He found the Doctor with his head on his hands, face down on the desktop. He seemed to be breathing deeply, sighing with almost every exhale. 

Nardole noisily dragged a chair over and sat on it the wrong way round, just out of reach of the Doctor in case he got angry. Nardole had heard the story of him punching through a diamond wall. He wasn’t about to find out what it felt like to be on the receiving end of it.

“Everything alright?” Nardole asked, keeping it light and casual. No need to voice concern until it was necessary. 

The Doctor picked his head up, a stern, frightening look in his eye. Then he stood, without saying a word, and walked out of the office. The door slammed shut again.

Nardole stared into space, feeling every urge to just go back to the TARDIS and finish watching the match. But then he remembered his oath. And, with a groan, he trailed slowly after the Doctor.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Good night, Nardole,” the Doctor said firmly. He hadn’t even looked; just sat there in that lonely chair with his eyes closed, facing the Vault. 

“I brought you some tea.”

When the Doctor failed to respond, Nardole shuffled forward and set the tray on the table. There were two cups and what looked like all of the sugar cubes from the canteen. The Doctor smiled despite himself, but didn’t say anything until he had filled his cup with six of the cubes.

“I don’t know what happened,” he said with a sigh, taking a sip of his tea. He grimaced and added another sugar cube.

Nardole brought over the other seat and took up his own tea, staying quiet as the Doctor mulled over his thoughts.

“Bill and I had an argument. Well, I think we did.”

“Oh, you did,” Nardole assured. The Doctor’s glare shut him up.

“Things just got out of hand. I didn’t even know what she wanted from me.”

Nardole sat with a gleam in his eye, like an old wise man. 

“Doctor…” he said, shifting slightly and looking at the floor. “I know what day it is.”

That same cloud came over the Doctor’s eyes, but he cast it off with a smirk.

“Good job, Nardole You’ll make it through primary school at last.”

He patted Nardole’s knee and stood, setting his tea on the table. He walked a few paces away before setting his hands in his pockets. 

Nardole couldn’t see his eyes anymore.

“I had her diary for a while, see. It’s April 22nd. And I know that you’re missing her.”

The Doctor stiffened, but didn’t turn round. Nardole took one last sip of his tea and set it down. Then it was a waiting game. He would speak eventually. Nardole knew he would. He just needed time. They breathed in the quiet darkness for a moment; utterly silent. Then the Doctor turned, just enough so Nardole caught his profile.

“Does Bill know?” The Doctor asked in a small voice.

“No. She shouldn’t, anyway. I’ve never told her.”

The Doctor smiled a bit. A sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“Thank you,” he said.

Nardole knew the Doctor must be feeling bad if he was throwing out thank yous. And so he stayed quiet and still, letting the Doctor lead the conversation.

“I didn’t mean to be so standoffish with her,” the Doctor said at last, taking his seat again. “It’s just…”

“Difficult,” Nardole finished.

“Yeah.”

The Doctor’s eyes bored into the ground.

“People who get close to me...it’s not safe. So it’s easier…”

“To not let them in in the first place,” Nardole finished again.

The Doctor smiled shyly, and nodded.

“And from her perspective, you’re her first friend in a while and you don’t want to tell her anything personal.”

The Doctor thought about this for a moment, and then nodded again.

“What should I do?”

“Tell her what you just told me.”

The Doctor scoffed.

“I don’t think talking about feelings is my greatest skill. Not that she wants to see me, anyway.”

Nardole cocked his head.

“You don’t have to be any good at it. You just have to hold your nose, close your eyes, and do it.”

The Doctor forced himself to stand.

“Oh, alright. But I’m not holding my nose and...whatever else you said. That would look ridiculous.”

He started out of the Vault dungeon, but then spun around.

“Er, Nardole? How did you learn all of this?”

“The TARDIS Telly picks up daytime shows.”

 

The Doctor’s eyebrows drew together.

“TARDIS Telly? The navigation screen?”

Nardole waved him off.

“One of those.”

The Doctor sighed.

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Keep me; because you know you need me.”

The Doctor scoffed once more before disappearing into the night.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Bill was holding a painfully pink pillow to her chest when the doorbell rang five times in a row. She couldn’t help the smile that brushed her lips. Nor the happiness that washed over her. For a moment, she’d thought maybe he was mad at her. She even dared to consider he wouldn’t want to teach her anymore, or take her on his travels. 

She opened the door to a giant box of apples, carried by a familiar pair of pale hands. 

“Doctor,” she began.

“Wait, before you start.” He set the crate on the floor and doubled over, catching his breath. When it was caught, he pushed himself up and stood respectfully outside of the threshold.

“Sorry. That box was very heavy.”

Bill chuckled to herself, and then pulled him inside by his arm.

“Come on,” she said. “You’re lucky Moira’s out tonight. She’d have your head. Probably think you were trying to seduce me with apples or something.”

His eyebrows drew together.

“But you’re…”

“She doesn’t know,” Bill said quickly, trying to make it sound more casual than it was. “I, er, haven’t old her.”

The Doctor thought hard about this for a minute. But just as he opened his mouth to respond, Bill ushered him to the couch.

“Make yourself at home.”

They sat beside each other on the sofa, both staring into space. When the quiet became too oppressive, Bill let herself smile.

“Okay, I have to ask. What is it with the apples?”

“It’s an Earth custom,” the Doctor said confidently. He took Bill’s shaking head as a negative.

“I...thought it was an Earth custom. Especially in schools.”

Bill nodded in understanding.

“It’s usually students give apples to teachers. And usually it’s just one apple.”

“What good is one apple?” the Doctor asked.

Bill laughed, feeling the air lighten immensely.

The Doctor massages his hands together, his feet tapping restlessly.

“Bill…”

“Wait, Doctor; I’m sorry. For earlier. I wasn’t feeling great and I got stressed out...I shouldn’t have shouted. And I shouldn’t have pried so much. You’re allowed to have your privacy.”

The Doctor shook his head.

“No, Bill, I understand. What you were saying earlier about opening up; talking...Oh!” The Doctor jumped up, running a hand over his face. “I almost forgot. Do you want a beverage?”

“A...beverage?” Bill’s jaw dropped slightly in shock.

“Yes. It’s a custom, isn’t it? I, er, was supposed to offer you a beverage. By the way, where is the kitchen?”

Bill held up a hand.

“Er, actually, I’m supposed to offer you a beverage.”

“That’s ridiculous. Someone comes into your house and you’re supposed to give them free drinks? What kind of a custom is that?”

Bill shook her head, laughing again.

“Look,” she said when her brain had caught up. “I’ll go make us some tea and you can grab the biscuits. They’re on the top shelf, so I can’t reach them anyway.”

A few minutes later, the pair returned with two steaming mugs of tea and a pack of biscuits. Bill sat first, demonstrating how to use a coaster.

“At least we won’t destroy the table. We already used half the sugar in the house for your tea,” Bill joked.

“They shouldn’t make it taste so awful if they don’t want us to eat so much sugar,” the Doctor explained. Bill merely shook her head.

They sat in silence for a little while as they drank and ate their biscuits. All the while, the Doctor stared at his left hand. And as time passed, Bill noticed that sadness enter his eyes again. This time, she kept her peace. Until he brought it up himself.

“Today is my wedding anniversary,” he said simply.

Bill closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

“I’m such an arse,” she murmured to herself. “I’m sorry, Doctor; I had no idea.”

He shrugged, looking at his wedding band.

“I should have told you. Friends do tell each other things, like you said. And I haven’t been acting very friendly.”

She set her mug down and rested her head on her hand, leaning on the back of the sofa.

“I know it’s hard getting close to people,” she said firmly, as if she had read his mind. “That’s probably why I got so defensive. Because I don’t have a lot of other people to talk to. About stuff that matters, I mean.”

The Doctor nodded, and set his tea down. Then he rubbed his hands together again.

“I’m honored to be the person you talk to, Bill,” the Doctor said, casting a smile to her afterward. “I never meant to make you feel any different.”

Bill smiled, wrapping her arms around him.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

He patted her arm in response, unable to say another word.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

When the Doctor entered his office again, he let out a deep sigh. River’s picture was sat on his desk, with a box of chocolates and his guitar all prepped by his favorite window. 

“Nardole!” he called into the room. He heard a squeak, and then the shorter man appeared from behind the TARDIS.

“How did it go with Bill?” Nardole asked.

“Did you set all of this out?” the Doctor responded, totally ignoring Nardole’s question. “Where did you even find chocolates at nine in the evening?”

“It wasn’t me,” Nardole said with his hands in the air.

The Doctor gave him a hard stare beneath stern eyebrows.

“Maybe a little bit, but…”

“Goodnight, Nardole.”

Nardole backed up a pace, but paused when the Doctor smiled.

“And thank you.”

Nardole froze where he was.

“You’re very welcome, sir.”

The Doctor took a few steps toward him.

“Now, I don’t normally allow this, but…”

“Cuddles!”

Nardole’s arms were suddenly wrapped around the Doctor’s midriff. The Doctor stiffened at the touch.

“Nardole?”

“I knew you were a big softie underneath,” Nardole said, nuzzling closer to the Doctor.

“Nardole, I was going to say you can use the navigation screen to tune into the telly.”

Nardole leaned back. 

“Oh. So...you didn’t want cuddles.”

“Definitely not,” the Doctor said sternly.

Nardole released him and cleared his throat. Then he playfully punched the Doctor’s shoulder and opened the TARDIS door.

“So can I still use the navigation screen, or…?”

The Doctor covered his face with his hand. 

“Just…” the Doctor sighed and dropped his hand. “Don’t watch anything rude.”

Nardole smiled with a thankful nod.

“Call me if you need anything, Doctor.”

“I definitely won’t.”

They shared one last smile before Nardole closed the TARDIS door behind him.

The Doctor strolled slowly to the picture on the desk; touched it lightly with his ring finger.

“Happy anniversary, sweetie,” he whispered. 

Somewhere out in the stars, he knew she heard him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. If you liked any bits, please don't hesitate to comment. It really is very encouraging even to get one or two words in response!!


End file.
